


Drowning In Petals

by bug_from_space



Series: La Douleur Exquise [2]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Angst, Fictional Disease, Hanahaki AU, Implied Relationships, M/M, Not Canon Compliant, Pre-Canon, Unrequited Love
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-06-04
Updated: 2017-06-04
Packaged: 2018-11-09 03:03:33
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,004
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11095545
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bug_from_space/pseuds/bug_from_space
Summary: 'In the early morning light of July 20th, 1901, at 6:28 am, Albus Dumbledore died.' The road to death is paved with flowers; the story of a deadly illness. (I recommend reading the first part first.)





	Drowning In Petals

**Author's Note:**

> Soo, I decided to do a part two to my other hanahaki au fic. Enjoy! I totally suggest checking out The Vitamin String Quartet though, it's what I listened to while writing this. https://www.youtube.com/channel/UCC9h6FtIb58ZQCRPJ2ZQtKg

The day that Albus woke surrounded by purple anemones he knew he was as good as dead. The purple flowers stood for fading hope; unfortunately accurate for the disease. It wasn’t surprising, he had expected it to happen eventually. He was just lucky it had never happened during his stay at Hogwarts. The fact that it was caused by Gellert wasn’t shocking. All the passion and fire, it was bound to draw him into the orbit. If only it wasn’t an Icarus story, Gellert the sun, that melted his wings, leading to his death.

Hiding the flowers was easier than he had expected. A quick spell was enough to hide the flowers from view, and the continuous coughing could be credited to a slight cold he hadn’t been able to shake. When his room started to smell to strongly of flowers he would bring fill bags with them, and shrink them to bring down to the river. Watch as the currents drifted, the purple flowers being swept away.

So long as he avoided saying the disease out loud, and told himself he wasn’t in love, he could almost pretend he wasn’t going to die. Wasn’t going to wind up six feet under because of a bunch of flowers growing in his lungs. Anemones were better than some flowers Albus guessed. Hard to stomach, but not growing in massive sections like hydrangeas. It was sad how he was considering himself lucky for the type of flowers he coughed up.

So long as Gellert never knew the truth, he might survive long enough, find a cure, or get the surgery. He planned to stay with Gellert for long enough, removing the chance for romantic feeling for him might just be life saving. It would hurt giving up the memories, but he could live. (In the end he did neither; instead moving with Elphias.) The summer warmth certainly didn’t seem to decrease the number of flowers, instead covering these ones in the occasional droplet of blood.

It was surprising when the duel came. It was fast, spells flying in every direction, as Gellert, Aberforth and himself fought. Of course it came to an abrupt end when Ariana died. Gellert fled, and he stayed long enough to attend the funeral before leaving himself. Gellert was gone and the anemones hadn’t stopped, so Albus was still in love with him. Of all the people he could have fallen for it had to be the one person that would never return his feelings. Moving in with Elphias had seemed like the best idea, they were friends, he wouldn’t judge him. (It was easier to believe Elphias when violets started to appear.)

Albus started to teach at Hogwarts. It was alright. It was a constant thing, he would go in, teach his classes and pretend he wasn’t dying, comforting in some way. Eventually Elphias and him created a schedule, something to follow, a way of life that didn’t require communication. (It was easier not to talk about it.) When Gellert started to appear in the news, the coughing increased, and they proceeded to dispose of the flowers. Both of them silently agreeing not to talk about it. There wasn’t anything he could do so it was easier not to at all.

For a while he debated getting the surgery and being done with it all. No more blood covered flowers, or constant fits of coughing. He decided against it. This hurt, and would kill him, but it was better than forgetting. There was too much there, too much tied up in it to let go of. It wasn’t forever, just until he died, as he would. He didn’t doubt that. Picking a petal from the rim of his mug he watched as it fluttered to the ground, one more petal on the the floor covered in a carpet of purple petals.

Living with Elphias was alright, so long as neither of them said anything better left unspoken. (“I’m in love with you.” “I know, and I’m sorry I’m in love with the wizard trying to take over the world.”) There were some things better left in the dark. He wrote several articles for the papers about Gellert, let the world hear one more voice in the cacophony of other views. It was hardly like it mattered, people seemed to appreciate it though. It didn’t stop the flowers, but it did make it easier to breathe for a while.

Gellert would never see what he had done to Albus, and it was easier that way. The flowers in his lungs wouldn’t care either way. Elphias always seemed fond of the river, and Albus stayed away. More content in the gardens, where his petals could blend in with the other foliage. The year ended and summer came around. The anemones became even more suffocating and Albus grew certain he was running out of time.

In the weeks leading up to his final hours he had to wonder what had happened to his life. It had been derailed by so little; two deaths, a person, and a lungful of flowers. It seemed so insignificant, so small. But here he was, nearly dead, all because of that. People wouldn’t remember him, one more name in a list of names; a sea of victims to unrequited love. He could still remember being a small third year, and exclaiming he’d never be a victim of unrequited love. It had seemed like such an absurd concept to him at 13.

He passed quietly in the night. Simply stopped struggling. It was easier, uncomplicated to just die. Elphias was going to die soon enough most likely. Gellert was gone, pursuing ‘The Greater Good’. Ariana, Kendra and Percival were all dead. Hogwarts would find new teachers. There was nothing keeping him here. Dying didn’t sound so bad anyways, peaceful, calm.

In the early morning light of July 20th, 1901, at 6:28 am, Albus Dumbledore died. The anemone’s surrounded his body were swept up and the world continued to turn.

**Author's Note:**

> This should hopefully be the last installment of this, I had only planned to write the one, so I hope you liked this.


End file.
